Good-for-nothing Cleaning

Matt and I went home to Minnesota for Christmas this year. We're lucky enough to have a wonderful housesitter stay with Barley while we're away. We've taken him to kennels, but Barley hates being there, and I can't take the guilt.

Because I knew someone was going to be in our house for a week, I spent practically the entire week before we left cleaning and scrubbing. Yes, there were still pockets of everyday messiness (read: I didn't clean Matt's messes), but for the most part, I could eat off nearly any surface in our home.

As we were getting ready to go to the airport, I let Barley outside one last time. Somehow, he got himself wrapped around a tree, and I had to plod through the snow to unwind his leash and let him inside. I ran around the house for a couple more minutes, grabbing last-minute things for the trip.

While we were on our way to the airport, not two minutes from home, I started to smell the undeniable smell of doggie poo. I have a knack of stepping in dog poop, so I knew it was me. Matt freaked out and pulled the car over so I could get it off. With most of the poo adequately scraped and Matt and I on our way to the airport, I realized one of my life's saddest disappointments:

Rachel: "I just spent five days cleaning our house."
Matt: "I know."
Rachel: "I even cleaned the baseboards."
Matt: "I know."
Rachel: "And then I stepped in dog poop and walked all over the house."
Matt: (pause for contemplation) "She probably won't notice the baseboards."

Coffee shop or your living room?

Following on the heels of my last post about the woman who drove me so crazy at the dog park (I've seen her since then around the neighborhood, and she's crossed the street every time to avoid Barley, who has never been anything but nice to her dog. But I digress.), I'm continuing with a shamelessly self-indulgent "something that drives me crazy" post.

I was at Caribou near the end of the school year a few weeks ago, trying to grade students' final exam essays and working on my own homework. A woman came in the front door, passed by the counter without buying a thing and sat down in the chair next to me. She was talking on the phone the entire time, and her conversation only got louder when she sat down. I've blurred out her face, but mere words couldn't describe how close she was sitting. I should have taken video, too, to capture her voice. It resonated through the whole building.

I would have said something, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. Heaven only knows how the poor person on the other end of that conversation felt! He or she was probably sitting quietly at a coffee shop across town. I sat there for at least another half hour, trying my best to get work done; her conversation continued and got louder, but she never purchased a thing.